


The Long Way Home

by Jadesky1



Series: The Voice of God [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Confusion, Drinking Songs, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual Drug Use, PTSD, Revenge, Survivor Guilt, War, all the fun stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:57:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesky1/pseuds/Jadesky1
Summary: Steve might have pulled him off that table and out of the factory, but Bucky feels like he left a big chunk of himself there. His memory of the last 3 weeks for starters. And what the hell happened to Steve? And what's he supposed to do now? He just wishes people would stop asking him questions he can't answer...Sequel to Creator and Part 2 of 'Voice of God', but can be read as a stand alone.





	1. A Step Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Escape: Hydra factory edition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: These characters are all Marvel's. I make no money from this and in fact give Marvel (willingly) lots of my money so they will continue creating movies I love.
> 
> Author's Note: Huge thanks to the lovely theletterelle, for making this infinitely better, first time round.

There were voices.

"-- convoy --"

They kept fading in and out.

"Well -- Sir?"

Why was it so dark?

No, not dark. His eyes were closed. Why couldn't he open his eyes?

\--

He'd fallen asleep?

What was happening? Why wouldn't his body listen to him?

The voices were gone. He just needed to be able to open his eyes and then he could find out where he was.

He felt...wrong. Like he was being pulled underwater, and it was taking every iota of his strength to just stay on the surface, never mind swim for the shore. He couldn't move. But maybe if he focused...

_ Come on Buck, just one eye.  _ He felt his eyelids flutter. That was progress at least.

He tried again, they opened a crack and he managed through force of will to keep them that way.

_ Well, that made absolutely no difference.  _ Darkness was now just 'marginally less' darkness.

Bucky blinked and managed to coax his eyes half open this time around. No change. No, wait, there was an odd green glow off to the side. Well, that was informative. Dark room, green glow, and he'd clearly been drugged...

These were not good things, especially when the last thing you remember is being captured by the enemy.

Bucky let his eyes fall closed to try and block it all out for just one more moment. It didn't help.

He took a deep breath and forced his heavy eyelids fully open this time. The room span around him, and he had to fight down a burst of nausea as he dragged his head up off the padded yet uncomfortable surface he was lying on. Sensation was coming back. He'd consider that a good thing, except that someone had apparently been using his body as a piñata. Christ he hurt.

His eyes were starting to adapt to the dim light of the room. He couldn't see much, but it was hard to miss the scientific equipment, especially the science fiction looking thing above that was worryingly pointed at him, and the straps that were holding him down onto the... whatever it was he was on.

His head felt heavier than his old pack from basic. After a few seconds he let it fall back onto the 'bed' with a thud. Damn, there really wasn't much padding on this thing.

He'd try that again in a minute. He just needed to...

Everything started to get soft around the edges, threatened to fade out completely. He couldn't let that happen. Not again. He needed to stay focused. Stay aware. Figure out where the hell he was.

He blinked.

But when he opened his eyes on the other side of the motion Bucky instantly knew, somehow, that he'd lost time. Maybe it was the quality of the light, not that there was any to speak of still. Things were moving around less now, that was good, as was the fact that he could keep his eyes open. Hopefully that meant whatever was in his system was wearing off.

He turned his head. The glow and the equipment were still there. Double damn. He'd been hoping they were a hallucination or something.

Why couldn't he remember how he'd got here? Or even where here was?

Well he knew his name, real and preferred, along with his rank, regiment and service number. And oh, yeah, tanks. Giant ass tanks at Azzano. Firing blue rays at Axis and Allied troops alike. Making them vanish. That had happened.

He was so done with this war.

Dum Dum? Gabe? Had they made it? He wasn't sure.

Bucky knew it was overly optimistic to hold out hope that he and his men had landed in friendly hands. This place didn't look like friendly hands. But he needed to confirm it. And find out where those two lug heads had ended up. God he never thought he'd be eager to hear one of Dum Dum's crass comments about his name, age, hair...

Well, only one way to find out. "Hello?"

His voice sounded slurred and raspy to his ears, but audible. There was no answer and no sound of movement in the room. So he was alone, and no guards.

That was a good thing. But he still had no further information and he was still strapped down to a table. Not so good.

Time to see what there was to see in this chamber of horrors.

His eyes had now adjusted to the low light of the room, and enough muscle control had now returned to let him slowly turn his head side to side. Not that there was anything else he could really move right now anyway.

There was a lot of exposed brickwork. High ceilings. Large windows on the left. Some sort of factory or warehouse then?

Over on the right, some sort of office set-up through a glass window. Lamp, map, diagrams on the walls. Was that an aircraft? He was still having difficulty focusing. But possibly? Not like any he'd ever seen though. 

The map was easier, he'd gotten way more familiar with Europe than he'd ever dreamed he would in his somewhat-lacking geography lessons at school. Six flags in six different locations. Was he at the one in Italy? No, it wouldn't make sense to mark your own location. It didn't make sense to have that sort of intel where a prisoner could see it either. Yet another check mark in the 'Not Good' column regarding his current situation.

Something nudged at the edge of his awareness. Were those footsteps? Yes, someone was coming closer, and by the sounds of it they were in a hurry. 

As much as he wanted to find out who was holding him, they already had the upper...well, everything. His best bet was to play dead and try and catch a glimpse without them knowing he was watching. Maybe they'd unstrap him if they thought he was still out. Well, he could dream. 

Plus looking up at the 'ray gun' hanging over him wasn't doing much for his attempts to stay positive.  _ What the hell did it do? _

Bucky closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't live to regret the choice. The footsteps entered the room sooner than anticipated. They'd never grown as heavy as he'd expected. No boots then. Someone lighter than average possibly? Their frantic pace slowed as they passed him. Checking to see if he was awake maybe?

They moved on in the direction of the office. There was the sound of someone moving things around. Bucky cracked open one eye and saw a very short, middle-aged man with spectacles. He looked harmless, but Bucky knew better than to trust appearances.  _ I mean just look at Steve. _

The diminutive man definitely wasn't a soldier. A scientist or medic perhaps? Whatever he was, he'd just grabbed a hat and coat and was coming back out. Bucky closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, and the stranger ran right by him and out into the hallway. Then he stopped. Were those more footsteps coming towards them?

Whatever was coming, Bucky wanted to see it this time. He forced his eyes open again. And looked straight at the device.  _ Wait, was it glowing? _

Suddenly his entire existence was pain. He couldn't move. There was no way to get away from what they were doing to him. All he could do was repeat his name, rank and serial number in a loop, like they'd been taught in training. Focus on that. Try and block out everything else. "Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557..."

Someone had said his name.

The glow around the device vanished, almost as if it had never been there in the first place. The room was dark and someone was there with him. Breaking his straps. Who...?

They were touching him. It looked almost like...

"It's me. It's Steve."

"Steve." He repeated it before it even fully registered that this was his Steve. "Steve!"

He'd been sure he'd never see his best friend again. But something wasn't right. He was pulled up off the table and onto his feet. The room lurched, but once it had settled Steve was still looking down at him. Was this all the drugs? Was he just seeing things?

The helmeted figure with Steve's face and some other really big guy's body grabbed him by the shoulders. "I thought you were dead."

Yes, it definitely was Steve. No one else could express that much with a single look. But that meant... "I thought you were smaller."  _ What the hell had happened to him? _

Steve didn't respond. He just looked around the room, pulled Bucky's arm over his now too-high shoulder, wrapped his own round Bucky's back, and  with a "Come on" started half-carrying him out of there. Wherever there was.

_ Like hell was he going to be carried. _

"What happened to you?"

"I joined the Army." It was such a Steve thing to say that Bucky would have laughed if he wasn't so focused on getting his legs to work. That was not an answer. The punk.

His legs started obeying his commands as they rounded the corner of the corridor and he pushed himself away from Steve's side. God his left arm itched. "Did it hurt?" He pushed up his sleeves.

"A little."

This was Steve. That didn't reassure him much. "Is it permanent?" He looked his friend head to toe. What the hell could do that to someone anyway?

Steve looked back at him. "So far."

Fine, he’d leave it for now, but as soon as they got out of here Steve had some serious explaining to do. And maybe if he kept throwing questions Steve's way, he'd buy some time to fill in a few of the blanks he had between here and Azzano before the questions started coming back in his direction.

His arm was still bugging him. He looked down and noticed the half-healed marks along the inside. He pulled his sleeves down again. No point worrying Steve, not like he could explain them anyway.

They'd managed to pick up a little speed now that his coordination had improved, but he was still lagging behind Steve as they came out into a vast concrete space with steel walkways. Steve approached a railing, and Bucky joined him, only to be instantly hit with an intense blast of heat and the force of multiple explosions going off below. He staggered back, ducking down to get away from the assault, while Steve raised the odd stars and stripes shield he'd been carrying to defend himself,  before attracting Bucky's attention and leading the way up a flight of stairs behind them to the left. 

_ Great, stairs. _ But when the only other choice was a flaming inferno, stairs it was.

Bucky grabbed onto the side railing and half-pulled himself up, half-climbed the steel staircase, trying to keep up with his newly-enlarged friend. After a few moments it seemed to get a lot easier. And his speed increased to the point where he almost couldn't stop himself in time to take the turn as they came out onto the walkway; forcing him to push against the railing in front in order to brake and change direction. 

After just a few steps Steve stopped at the sound of a raised voice.

"Captain America! How exciting!"

Bucky drew to a halt behind Steve and held onto the railing. He looked over to see the short man from the lab, and a tall Nazi officer, standing on the other side of the walkway they'd been about to cross. _ Guess that makes that the way out.  _

"I am a great fan of your films!"

Okay, clearly he was missing something here. Films? And what was the creepy red octopus emblem on the guy's uniform all about?

The short scientist type he'd seen earlier was shooting him a strange look. Bucky felt a shiver going up his spine. Until now, he'd always thought that was just a saying. He realised he was suddenly leaning heavily against the railing. Something about the look the man was sending his way made him feel the need to get as far away as possible.

Not an impulse felt by Steve it seemed. But when had it ever been.

While Bucky had been focused on the bespectacled man, Steve had marched out to meet the approach of the tall German.

He'd always let Steve handle the situation until it became obvious he couldn't and that he'd bitten off more than he could chew. This guy looked like the definition of that, regardless of Steve's new fighting weight. And Bucky was in no shape to step in this time.

Wait. The German said something about a Dr Erskine. Who was Dr Erskine? Was he the guy who did this to Steve?

Bucky's not sure if he wants to hug or punch the person responsible.  _ Speaking of punches. _

Steve puts what Bucky taught him at Goldie's to good use and lands a powerful right hook on the guy's jaw. Maybe that will shut him up. Fritz definitely likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

Bucky's pride lasts just as long as it takes for the Nazi to regroup and swing at Steve with a counter that dents his shield, and would probably have laid out a heavyweight. Before Bucky can react, Steve's lost his gun and been hit onto his back, but he literally kicks back with a two-footed move that Bucky knows he never showed him. 

If he'd taken Steve's gun he might have been able to do something, but this fight isn't normal. None of this is. He doesn't know what to do.

His prayers are seemingly answered when the bridge starts separating and the two combatants are forced back into their corners. Then he sees the Doctor by a lever and realises he was the one responsible. For some reason the thought of him owing that man anything makes him very, very uneasy.

He walks his hands along the railing as it moves towards him, returning his friend to relative safety. They're still in a burning factory but Bucky will take it as a win.

Then Fritz starts peeling his face off. 

Bucky had to wonder if the drugs were having some weird after effects.

It's a mask, and underneath his face is bright red and not in a 'stayed out on the beach too long' type of way.  _ Christ what happened to the guy?  _

Only Steve's reaction convinces him he's not seeing things. "You don't have one of those do you?"

"You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you I embrace it proudly. Without fear!"

Dear God. He knew leaving Steve unsupervised was a mistake. What has the Punk got himself wound up in?

And is Steve really a Captain? He can't be. Guys like them don't get made Captains. He's still half-convinced his promotion to Sergeant was some kinda clerical error.

"Then how come you're running?"

_ My best friend, ladies and gentlemen. Steve 'deathwish' Rogers. _

Another series of explosions rocks the building and the flames below them surge upwards. There must be some shred of common sense left in that swollen head, because next thing Bucky knows Steve's telling him "Come on, let's go, up" and they are heading up yet more stairs.

He wondered if other people have these types of experiences or if he’s just lucky. He could only blame Steve for so much after all. He'd chosen him.

They reached the top of the factory and as Bucky caught up he realised that Steve had stopped for a reason. He looked at the beam, shaking with the detonations still going off below. _ This was his escape plan? _

To be fair, those blasts sounded like ordinance going off, and Steve knew the lay of the land unlike him. However, he once again wondered how it was he'd ended up with the reputation for stupid plans, when generally they were all just spur of the minute ideas designed to get them out of whatever ridiculous situation Steve had landed them in.

No one really understood Steve the way he did. He'd occasionally wondered what his overly-heroic friend's life would have been like if Bucky hadn't stumbled across him being beat up in that alley all those years ago - with his delicate health and lack of self-preservation instinct. It didn't bear thinking about.

He couldn't imagine his life without Steve Rogers. And luckily his friend seemed to return the sentiment as his apparent one-man rescue effort more than proved. So if Steve said cross the beam of death, cross the beam of death Bucky Barnes would.

He began climbing over the rail and found Steve's hands supporting him. That was going to take some getting used to.

"One at a time."

As Bucky felt the beam move under him he had to agree that was probably wise. God he hated heights.

He moved along the makeshift bridge carefully, and was doing pretty okay, until yet another huge explosion went off directly below. He kept his balance, but the beam didn't fare quite as well. He heard a tell-tale groaning from the metal below him and ran. He jumped just as the far end of the beam detached itself from its moorings, and just managed to catch the rail securely enough to pull himself up and over.

His surge of relief lasted only until he looked Steve in the eye.  _ Crap.  _ He looked down. This place wasn't going to be standing for much longer at this rate. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"

"Just go! Get outta here!"

Fuck that. His world might have descended into a fiery level of hell complete with red skull-faced Nazi demons, but screw them all. "NO! Not without you!"

Steve looked frustrated with him. Nice to know some things hadn't changed.

Then he bent back a length of damaged railing. That was definitely new. And what 'they'd' done to him definitely hadn't just made him taller. What was he doing?

He moved back. Oh hell, he was actually going to jump.

Steve had already completed his run up, and was throwing himself across the huge gap, before Bucky could even process the fact that Steve thought this was a good idea. And as a wall of fire from the largest explosion yet blocked Bucky’s view, his heart dropped to his feet.

Until he saw Steve still hurtling towards him. He was going to fall short; Bucky could just tell. He stepped up onto the first rung of the railing and leaned over, arm outstretched. The second he made contact, he latched onto Steve's wrist and threw himself backwards. Their combined weight and momentum was enough to get Steve clear, and that fact was almost enough to make the pain of several hundred pounds of 'new Steve' falling on top of him almost bearable.

Christ, he was going to feel that for weeks.

Steve quickly scrambled up onto his hands and knees. "God Buck. Bucky, are you all right?"

'Bucky' was still trying to get the air back in his lungs. For some reason Steve seemed to take his lack of answer as justification to start prodding and poking him along his ribs. He slapped his friend's hands away. "Quit it will ya."

He pushed on that ridiculous shoulder and Steve took the hint, standing up and holding out a hand to help him up. Bucky took it. He might be proud, but he wasn't stupid. And it was Steve.

Steve, who was giving him yet another concerned look. "You OK?"

Bucky felt his head shaking before he'd even formulated a response.  _ Better go with that then. _ "No. But I will be. Come on, let's get out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've liked, please kudos. It's the only way I know. xx
> 
> Also, the section in present tense is meant to be so. Think of it as Bucky seeing the action happen in slow motion, or removed from him, so he's almost commentating on it rather than experiencing it.


	2. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Steve, just like the old Steve.
> 
> My great beta, Elle, should take at least 12% of the credit for this chapter.

The next few minutes are a blur of downward spirals, intense heat, and smoke-choked breaths, as Steve leads and Bucky follows him out of this nightmare place.

At one point a section of gangway in front of them had collapsed, damaged by some prior explosion. Steve had barely hesitated before grabbing him by the back of his shirt and virtually throwing him across the gap. It was only his almost total inability to breathe through the acrid black fumes that had replaced all the oxygen, that stopped Bucky yelling at him for that.

None of this was okay. He needed to lie down. No, first he needed to catch his breath. Then stick his head in a bucket of water. Then he'd lie down.

He couldn't see at all now. He held tightly onto Steve's shoulder and simply trusted his friend knew the way to go.

Then an almighty crash and a blissful blast of cold winter air heralded their freedom.

Bucky staggered out, coughing painfully and doubling over as he fought to take in deep lungfuls of clean unpolluted air.

He'd just about caught his breath when he was abruptly shoved up against the concrete wall and pinned. Panic set in, and he tried to fight off his attacker before he realised it was in fact Steve, who had the shield raised, deflecting bullets aimed their way by a black clad trooper firing a sidearm. A trooper who seconds later disappeared in a blue flash of light.

With the threat now gone, Bucky pushed Steve away from him. Harder than he'd meant to. Steve staggered forwards a few steps and looked back at him with a strange expression.

Bucky opened his mouth to apologise. He'd just needed space. He made it as far as "Sor-" before he doubled over again coughing. He gave up standing as a lost cause and sat down heavily.

He looked around, noticing the remnants of a battle all around them, even through his still-watering eyes - scorch marks, craters, smoke and a few isolated fires. And a few bodies. Most wearing the black of the enemy forces--whoever they were--but more than a few wearing the familiar greens of American and British servicemen. He spotted the insignia of the 107th on one. Was it someone he knew? The moisture running from his eyes and down his cheeks, threatened to take on a whole new identity.

Steve looked around, assessing the situation. There were a few distant noises of gunfire, but it sounded like the fighting was winding down. He assumed from the way Steve's posture relaxed that it was their side that had come out on top. Though how he could tell from here Bucky didn't know. But he must have been fairly positive, as he laid down the stars and stripes shield and crouched down in front of Bucky, blocking his view of the casualties. He pulled out a small flask from inside his jacket pocket, unscrewing the top and holding it out. "Here Buck. It'll help."

Bucky sipped the tinny-tasting water. As much as he wouldn't have minded something stronger, the liquid felt wonderful as it trickled down his parched throat. It was helping ease his raspy breathing as well. Finally noticing something was missing, he looked at Steve. "Your asthma?"

Steve gave him a half-smile. "Gone." He wasn't even coughing from the smoke.

Bucky nodded and took another sip of water.  _ Okay, maybe this Erskine gets a pass. _

Steve suddenly tensed and then quickly stood up. Someone was running towards them. Bucky accepted the hand his friend held out in his direction, and let Steve do the heavy lifting to get him back to his feet. He handed him back the flask--which was quickly stowed--and stamped down on his irritation when Steve once again put himself and his shield at Bucky's 12. It was the smart move. The shield was the only reachable cover they had right now.

A helmeted trooper appeared from around the side of the factory. The weapon he was carrying was huge, glowing blue and unlike anything Bucky had ever seen. Steve had gone too still. This wasn't good.  _ Maybe he wouldn't… _

The enemy soldier noticed them.

He raised the gun in their direction.

Steve's hand was still on Bucky's shoulder, but now it was moving. Three fingers lifted and tapped down. Two fingers lifted and tapped down. But just before the one count, and whatever madness Steve had planned to follow it with could take place, the man in front of them paused, lowered his weapon and scurried away even faster than he'd arrived.

Bucky turned to look at his friend. "Well that was anti-climatic. Please tell me that you knew for a fact that that shield would hold up to whatever that thing shoots?"

Steve glanced back at him guiltily.

"Jesus, Steve!"

The factory choosing that moment to blow up in spectacular fashion behind them, was the only thing that saved Steve Rogers from what was going to be the lecture of a lifetime.

Bucky picked himself up off the ground, this time ignoring Steve's offer of assistance. He was too annoyed with his friend right now, rescue or no rescue. This was a war, and Steve was going to get himself killed if he kept on in his usual fashion.

Then he heard it, the distinct rumbling of a tank drawing closer, and yes, it was headed in their direction. Of course it was.

"Steve, unless you think you can suddenly punch out a tank, get your hands the hell up."

He started to raise his own arms, only to have Steve grab his wrists and hold them down. "Wait a sec."

Bucky flinched. The only saving grace was that Steve was too distracted by the approaching tank to notice. A tank that had now ground to a halt only yards in front of them.

With his eyes still messed up from the smoke, and the flood lights affixed to the tank pointed in their direction, Bucky couldn't see much other than a looming, threatening shape in the darkness. Well that wasn't quite accurate. He shaded his eyes and could make out the figure of a man in the top gun turret. Steve was smiling. Why was Steve smiling?

"Chaps, I do believe you'll want to get out here. Mostly to rub it in my face that 'you told me so'."

Bucky didn't recognise the voice. Should he? But there was no mistaking that accent. A Brit.

More dark shapes emerged as the men inside clambered up and out of the hatch.

"Well look what the Cap dragged in. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes Jimmy."

"Dugan, how many times do I have ta tell y... Ooof!" His complaints were cut short as he found himself half-crushed between Jones and Dum Dum.

"Thought we'd lost you for a beat or two there Sarge." Gabe's quiet words were as welcome as they were unsettling. What had happened?

After another moment the two men finally stood back and let him breathe again. This it turned out was a bad thing, as it set off another bout of coughing that would have sent him to his knees if Steve hadn't been there to catch him.

Dum Dum tried to step in and take Steve's place but was quickly waved off by the Captain.

Gabe and Dugan shared a look. Gabe shrugged. "It doesn't sound like pneumonia."

"Pneumonia?!" Steve sounded more panicked than someone who'd suffered the infection numerous times, and survived it, should do in Bucky's opinion.  _ Hey it's news to me too pal. _

"I'm fine Steve, it's just the smoke."

Gabe and Dugan shared another look. "Why don't you let Jonesy here check you out just to be on the safe side?"

Gabe barely waited for Dugan to finish speaking before he moved in, never mind waiting for Bucky's agreement.

"Maybe you should check for a head injury while you're at it Gabe." Bucky scowled at Dum Dum's comment, but also felt a rush of relief. Of course, he'd told them about Steve, no way they'd believe this was the same guy. And it was finally confirmation that he hadn't just imagined this whole thing after all. Reassuring.

He tried to back away from Gabe's outstretched hands, but Steve's grip tightened, holding him in place. "Let him, Buck."

He fought off a surge of panic; these were his friends. And introductions were clearly in order. "Dum Dum, Gabe, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, these two idiots are Private Gabe Jones and Corporal Timothy Dugan."

"Captain America here is your Steve? Short stack Steve from Brooklyn?" Dugan's look of disbelief was almost comical enough to let Bucky ignore Gabe's prodding of his ribs.

"Short stack?"

He turned to look at Steve. "Well you know how I feel about pancakes."

Steve snorted. Then elbowed him.  _ Ow. _ He wasn't too concerned then.

"Yeah, I've got a whole heap of questions about that too Dugan, believe me."

Steve was scanning the area. "Later, I promise. Any room in that tank for Sergeant Barnes here?"

"We'll make room for him." The Brit's voice was starting to seem oddly familiar.

"What the hell, Steve! I'm fine! Gabe, tell him."

"Buck, I just pulled you off a table. A table you were strapped down to. You're going in the tank."

Gabe suddenly paused and shifted his body to one side. He looked Bucky in the eye and subtly nodded down towards his left arm. Buck realised he'd been reaching to scratch at it again.  _ Okay, fine, he was busted. _ He rolled his eyes at his friend. Gabe pushed up and then pulled down his sleeve after just a quick glance. It almost looked like he was simply adjusting Bucky's clothing after the exam, but Bucky knew better and was grateful for his discretion. Nothing they could do about it here, and talking about it would just slow them down.

"Fine, but only if there's no-one with actual injuries who needs-"

"No Buck, even then. There's plenty of other vehicles we can secure to carry the wounded."

"After, then. We still need to gather everyone up, secure prisoners, set up a base camp at a safe distance -"

"Which Dugan, Monty, Dernier and I--and Captain Rogers here--can handle. Get your stubborn ass in the tank Sarge, before you fall over and we just carry you in."  _ Et tu Gabe? And who exactly are Monty and Dernier? _

"You could just order him in, Captain." The Brit had jumped down, and was now visible in the lights of the tank, and the glow of the still burning factory behind them. He looked like he sounded, a toff. "Privilege of rank and all that." He held out a hand to Steve. "As this dock-working reprobate we can't seem to get shift of failed to introduce me, allow me, Lieutenant James Montgomery Falsworth of His Majesty's Paras. Just call me Monty."

Well that was one question answered. One of many. And..."Hey!"

Steve shook the proffered hand with a smile, jostling Bucky in the process. "That's my dock-working reprobate you're talking about there Monty."

The red-beret wearing English man crossed his arms. "There's a pity, we've become quite accustomed to him. Maybe you'd consider a shared-custody arrangement of some sort? You can borrow Dugan."

"Screw you, your lordship."

"You can keep Dugan."

Bucky, for once, was not in the mood for witty repartee. "Great, now everyone knows everyone, you've all had a laugh at my expense. Can we please get away from the exploding building and the hell out of here, wherever it is."

'Monty' turned away from looking at Bucky to address Steve, "He does rather have a point."

"He usually does. What's the current situation?"

"We were just making a last round to pick up any stragglers. A number of Hydra's forces, maybe twenty to thirty escaped in some transports, a few on bikes. Seemed to be headed East or North. The majority of the rest have been killed or did for themselves. Only one or two prisoners, no-one high ranking. They don't seem big on surrendering. Can't say I'm overly sad about that fact. Our side are packing up the remaining vehicles in the loading yard with what supplies we've been able to salvage."

Monty knew his stuff. Apparently he also knew Bucky. Bucky could figure that one out later. But right now…

He pushed himself off Steve's left shoulder.

"Buck!"

He ignored the call and walked over to a Hydra (apparently) gun lying on the ground, looked it over, checked the sight, spun quickly, and shot the approaching enemy soldier who'd been coming up on their position around the side of the tank. He vanished in a flash of blue. Bucky looked at the weapon in his hands. "Fuck me."

"Language."

"Don't even start that shit with me right now Rogers."

Dugan scratched his head under his bowler hat. "Guess we missed one." He leaned towards Gabe who was standing next to him in the huddle Bucky had just left. "You know I'm really starting to think that might actually be his Steve."

"You're all idiots." Bucky dropped to a crouch, planted the gun barrel down in the dirt in front of him, closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the stock. He just needed to escape all this, just for one minute, then he'd be good to go.

"Those delightful weapons are the reason we're struggling for an accurate count on our losses. No bodies, not even dog tags left behind. Burial detail's going to be alarmingly quick on this occasion. We've got people checking up on their cell mates. It's the best we can do for now."

Falsworth's sombre words broke through the dark stillness Bucky had retreated into. Oh well, guess his minute was up. He heard footsteps approaching him; he was pretty sure it was Steve. 

"Try and carry me and I'll shoot you."

"No you won't, you've spent too many years trying to keep me alive."

He heard Steve crouch down on his right and finally cracked open an eye. "Well, I can still tell them about the time Jenny McGascill dared you to -"

Steve raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay no carrying. You do need to rest up though, Buck."

His other eye opened. "Pfft. I was the only one who spotted that guy, you need me."

"Always, Buck."

"That's low, Steve."

"Humour me Bucky, you had pneumonia-"

"Bad pneumonia." Gabe was clearly not on his side.

Steve nodded his thanks, "Bad pneumonia. What, a few weeks ago?" He looked back at Gabe who nodded back a confirmation.

"Three weeks give or take. There's no way you could be totally over it this quickly."

He'd lost three weeks. That was... That was longer than he'd expected. He felt himself wobble and Steve's hand was on his elbow almost the instant it happened. He steadied himself and shook the unwanted assistance off. "What, are you a doctor all of a sudden? You said it yourself - I had it, I don't have it any more. I'm fine." He wasn't fine.

Dugan suddenly appeared in his direct field of vision, kneeling down in front of him and looking him in the eye. "Hey, Jimmy boy, I know you've probably been through a lot, we all have, but that's no excuse to talk to Jonesy that way. You'd be the first in line to kick anyone else's ass if they did, I know because I've seen you do it."

Bucky winced. "Sorry Gabe."

The Georgia-man laughed dryly. "If you're really sorry, get your ass in the tank. I may not be a doctor, and you may not have pneumonia, but no one with eyes or a lick of sense would pass you fit for field duty right now." He still hadn't mentioned the needle marks. Hell of a guy, Gabe Jones.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, but only to the yard. And I'm on the gun."

Dugan scoffed at that. "No deal. You're in there until we get you to a real doctor, no offence Jonesy."

"None taken. But we can be reasonable, I'd accept a paramedic or nurse."

_ Gee, thanks. _ "Not happening."

"Captain, we're all still free to carry him correct?" Monty was a funny guy. Who would'a guessed?

Steve stood up and indicated for Bucky to do the same. He managed it with barely a waver, he was proud.

Steve looked to Monty again. "Who's the most senior officer here?"

"That would be you Captain. We have a few Lieutenants of various colours but nothing higher."

Only someone who knew Steven Grant Rogers back to front and inside out, like Bucky did, would have understood the hints of emotion crossing his face. Panic, relief and determination. Bucky didn't know what Steve was doing here without back-up, or what the hell the getup he was wearing was about, but helping people in bad situations was Steve's wheelhouse whatever size he was. He'd put money on this being Steve's first time out. It didn't matter, he'd follow Steve anywhere. From the looks of it, his friends now would too. He wouldn't have to talk him up to people any more. That was nice.

"We're over 35 miles from the base I left, which is our nearest relief point, and we can't take a direct route due to some heavy artillery between us and there. So, we're probably looking at over 40 miles with diversions. If I'm in charge I want you riding most of the way, Buck. I can't worry about you the entire march too."

He still hadn't ordered him, Bucky noticed. Considerate. He wasn't sure he could take that right now. "I'm it Steve, for the 107th, I'm all that's left."

Dugan piped up, "I'm pretty sure I just saw Hopkins of Charlie a few minutes ago".

Bucky glared at him, but as usual it had no effect on the former strong man. "Fine, I'm all that's left in our Company, point still applies that I need to check-up on them and do what needs to be done. It shouldn't be anyone else."

He saw the resignation form in Steve's eyes. He was right, and he knew Steve knew that.

Steve picked up his shield, which he'd leant up against the side of the tank while Bucky wasn't paying attention. "Fine, we'll compromise. You ride to the yard. You sort out what remains of the 107th with Gabe, Dugan and Hopkins, but then you're back on the tank until we make camp."

Bucky opened his mouth to argue that the men needed to see him.

"We'll have them behind the tank, you can be on the gun. There's probably no-one they'd rather see there."

_ Damn it.  _ Steve knew him too well.

"After that you switch out with Hopkins on 4 hour shifts if he's not injured. If he is, we'll find someone else to stand in."

"Okay." He could be reasonable too.

"You have two hours to get things sorted out at the yard and then you're retiring until morning."

_ You bastard. _

"Jones, Dugan, I expect you to make sure he does."

_ You sneaky, sneaky Irish bastard. _

He sent apologies to the dearly departed Sarah Rogers, but sometimes her son was just too much. He'd even still managed to avoid ordering Bucky around. He was going to have to get over that. If Steve was stuck in this God damned war there's no way he was leaving his side once the rest of the Company was safe.

"Steve."

"Yes, Sergeant?"

Oh, okay. So, it was going to be like that was it?

"Your shoelace is undone."

Bucky walked past Steve towards the tank, and heard Steve drop the shield and kneel down to sort out his boot, as he (carefully) climbed onto the body of the armoured vehicle and into the gun station. "Come on boys, show me how this lady moves."

The three men had gathered at the front of the tank and were all looking up at him.

Monty shook his head. "And somehow, I'm still glad he's not dead."

"Me too. He kinda grows on you, like foot fungus."  _ Thanks Dugan. _ "You gonna tell us what happened these last three weeks or not, kid?"

Gabe shook his head before Bucky could come up with a response. "Not the time, Dugan. Let's get him and us safe first, then we can have all the campfire stories you want."

Dugan nodded grudgingly, and Bucky hoped Gabe could read the gratitude in his own expression. He turned to find Steve watching him with a questioning look. He ignored it.

There was only space for two inside, so Falsworth made himself comfortable on the back of the tank. And after a moment of consideration, Bucky passed him the rifle. Or ray gun. Whatever.

"I'm gonna want that back."

Monty took it from him with a nod of thanks. "I'm sure there are bound to be plenty of aspiring Hydra martyrs who're simply dying to get you a new one."

Bucky let out an involuntary snort of amusement. Yeah, he probably liked Monty. The guy still wasn't keeping that gun though.

Bucky settled himself behind the mounted gun controls as the tank shuddered to life beneath him.  _ Looks simple enough. _

The tank lurched backwards, reversing before starting to turn and trundle forwards towards the loading yards. Bucky looked up to see where Steve had gotten to. He was walking alongside as if out for a Sunday stroll in the neighbourhood. Couldn't he at least stay behind the tank? Jesus Christ. He was going to have saved Bucky only to give him a heart attack within the first few minutes of operations. "Get behind us, Steve."

Steve had that mulish expression on his face. The one that’s haunted Bucky's nightmares since the age of eight or nine.  _ The more things change...etc. etc. _

"I'm the officer in charge, I should be leading the way."

Monty snorted and turned to look up at Bucky. "He really is new to all this isn't he?"

Bucky sank down into the rock-hard seat with a sigh. "Captains don't lead, they give orders. Usually from a safe distance. But you're not going to do that are you?"

The question’s purely rhetorical and Steve knew it. He smiled up apologetically.  _ If only he was actually sorry. _

"If you're trying to get me to relax, this isn't the way to do it, Steve."

Steve finally, grudgingly, moved behind the tank, and instantly started asking Falsworth more questions about the state of the men and the supplies they had left to them by Hydra. But he could feel Steve's eyes returning to him at various points of the conversation. Did he want to ask the Brit questions about Bucky? Bucky wished he would. He could do with a few of those answers.

There was no one in sight as they rolled slowly forward, skirting the burning shell of the main factory building. Nothing for him to do other than let his eyes adjust to the red-tinged, half-darkness around them. As they rounded the corner, he caught a glimpse of the factory's profile out of the corner of his eye and suddenly he was on foot, being herded towards it at gunpoint in a stream of uniformed, defeated humanity, and with a tightness in his chest that he knew wasn't just due to the dread of being captured by this new, unknown enemy.  
  
They'd arrived at night. The flashback faded away, taking the last of his strength along with it. He was back on the tank, he was leaving this place. And now he wasn’t at all certain he wanted those missing memories back after all.

 


	3. Dissemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape is not always freedom.

The tank made its relentless way around a few wrecked and burning vehicles, before finally entering into the relatively clear space of the factory's loading yard. As his view opened up, Bucky released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. There were people, and they were his people. There were hundreds of them. He spotted a few members of his company busy lifting containers into the back of a cargo truck. He jumped from the gun turret, then off the back of the tank and down to the solid ground with barely a stumble. 

Monty watched his dismount carefully, but seemed content to let him be. The same couldn't be said of Steve of course. Even though he was still feet away, his entire frame screamed that he was prepared to leap in and catch Bucky at the first sign of unsure footing. The role reversal was ludicrous. If he hadn't been so focused on keeping upright in front of the other soldiers, Bucky would have found it amusing. Or given Steve hell. Probably both.

Heads turned their way, and several soldiers Bucky recognised stopped what they were doing and alerted their neighbours to the new arrivals. A hand was raised in greeting by a Corporal called Davis. Bucky returned the gesture. A few other hands went up. Then a few more. Some giving waves, more than a couple in salute. Bucky coughed to clear the lump forming in his throat. 

Monty stepped up behind him. "Those who didn't see what you did heard about it. Your patriotic friend over there may be the hero of the day, but you're a matched pair as far as these men are all concerned." The Brit gave him a squeeze on his shoulder, before moving off to take charge of something or other.

Bucky was touched. He had absolutely no clue what it was all about, but he was touched none the less.

The tank had stopped while Monty had been talking to him, and Dugan and Gabe were climbing out. 

"Couldn't you two fools have waited for the tank to stop before you jumped off?" Dugan sounded disgruntled. Dugan nearly always sounded disgruntled. Thank God. Concern from Dum Dum would have been more than he could deal with right now.

"I can't speak for Falsworth, but I had to get away from your god-awful driving at the first available opportunity." Dugan's driving was fantastic. It was one of his few obvious redeeming features, and had probably saved him at least 50 per cent of the insubordination charges he had been due.

Dugan hopped off the tank, landing with a heavy, two-footed thud, and walked up to Bucky. He got uncomfortably close and then stopped and stared at Bucky as though searching for something. He finished his examination, straightened his bowler hat and shoulder barged Bucky out of the way as he headed to the nearest truck. "Definitely a head injury Gabe, I swear he wasn't this stupid before."

Bucky staggered sideways until a hand against his arm steadied him. Steve's hand. "See, I told you you were taking all the stupid with you."

And to think, he'd almost said 'Thanks'. "I think they cheaped out on those new ears of yours. I definitely heard the man say that the stupid levels had risen since you arrived pal."

Steve chuckled and stepped in closer to Bucky's side. "Amazing how you always hear what you want to Buck."

Bucky leant into Steve's side and nudged his friend's shoulder with his own. Something he'd never been able to do before. "What can I say, I'm an optimist." 

He stayed leaning into Steve's side. Steve was warm, he wasn't; might as well make the most of it. What had happened to his jacket? It was definitely unreasonably cold for the time of year.

Steve leaned back into him, supporting Bucky's weight a little more. Bucky scowled. Steve avoided eye contact. Bucky obviously still looked like he needed that lie down he'd thought about earlier. He'd let it go - this time.

Steve nodded over at Dugan, "Strange chain of command you've got here".

Gabe stepped up next to them. "No place for it in there. Don't worry, we'll all start acting like proper soldiers again once we pass that gate. Except Dugan. Dugan's never matched anyone's definition of a proper soldier."

Bucky exhaled a raspy laugh. "Ain't that the truth."

They all stared at the man in question, who was giving hell to a team of privates who had been loading the truck in a way he didn't approve of. All while balancing a huge crate on his shoulder like it was nothing.

Steve winced for some reason. "I'd offer to go help but I don't think he needs it. Does he always talk like that?"

Gabe rolled his eyes, "Hell that was nothing. If you think he's bad around Sarge you should have seen what he was like to the other senior officers. He likes Sarge".

Bucky leant further into Steve's side. Well, if he was offering. "Thank god for small mercies. Even then it's been an hell of a job to stop him doing something court-martial worthy on an almost daily basis. He pretty much thinks regs are for other people. Finds trouble almost as easily as you do Steve. There's no one better to have your back in a fight though." Bucky glanced at Steve, he'd expected mild amusement, but his expression was almost sad. _Wonder what that's about?_

Steve nodded again. "Good to know, but I was talking about that." He gestured over to where Dugan was evidently having a few pointed words with a soldier who looked like he'd rather be facing Hydra again.

Bucky straightened up and turned to look at Steve properly. "I was only kidding about the ears thing Steve. You telling me you can hear that?"

Steve shrugged apologetically, "Sorry," then winced again, "Yes, a little too well". He pointed to his ears, "Still getting used to all this I guess".

Bucky took another step back. "You mean you let someone do this to you and you don't even know what they changed? How much they changed?"

Steve grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and avoided Bucky's gaze. "Well when you put it like that, of course it sounds bad."

Okay, it was now definitely more of a glare. "What the hell were you thinking, Steve!"

Gabe glanced between the two of them. "You clearly have things to discuss. I'm gonna go save those guys from Dugan's special brand of assistance."

Steve stayed uncharacteristically silent as they watched Gabe retreat. Then with a sigh he placed the shield down on the ground and turned towards Bucky. "I was thinking I could finally help. Plus, the only guy who really understood what was done to me was killed straight after it happened."

Steve looked sad. Bucky hated it when Steve looked sad. He felt his anger subsiding. "Well I can't argue with your results." The men in front of them were testament to Steve's abilities on that front. "But you should have at least waited for your back-up, Steve."

Steve fidgeted. "Yeah, about that..."

 _Oh, this just keeps getting better and better._ Bucky threw his head back and looked to the heavens for strength. "There is no back-up is there, Steve?"

Steve now just looked guilty. "That's not entirely true. No soldiers, but there's a plane I can call in, the only problem is -" he dug a damaged electronic device out of his jacket pocket, " I don't think we'll get a signal".

Bucky took the - beacon - he supposed out of Steve's hands and had a look. It was a mess and definitely beyond his limited engineering skill set. But there were a couple of guys in the regiment with a little more experience and a lot more expertise than him, who might be able to repair it if they could find the tools. There had to be some in a place like this right? "Maybe if any of the workshops are still standing, one of our radio guys can give it a try." He handed it back to Steve. 

Steve smiled in thanks and tucked the busted device back into his pocket.

Bucky couldn't help smiling back. "Nice attempt to distract me by the way."

Steve shrugged. "Would have been if it'd worked."

Bucky's smile suddenly felt brittle. "So you--one untested, souped-up soldier--and one plane? Somehow I can't see the brass signing off on that. Exactly how much trouble are you going to be in this time, Steve?"

Steve's hand came up, fingers knocking up the rim of his helmet as they dug under it to scratch at the hair at the side of his head. "Well, I definitely went AWOL. And technically I defied direct orders-" he paused, looking embarrassed for a moment, "and I may have ditched a USO show or two".

It took a second for those words to register. Then Bucky burst into laughter. 

He couldn't stop. It hurt his ribs so much it was bringing fresh tears to his eyes, and he was struggling to catch his breath.

Steve had gone bright red. "Geez, Buck, can you cut it out, please."

Bucky wiped his eyes, coughed a time of two and attempted to pull himself together. "Well at least that explains the get-up. Please tell me there were chorus girls."

Steve's lack of response was all the confirmation he needed. Another bout of uncontrollable laughter seized a hold of him. He was trying to stop he really was, Steve's discomfort was something he'd spent most of his life trying to mitigate, but he really couldn't this time. He could barely breath. He doubled over, hands latching on to his upper thighs as a support. 

He could feel his heart racing, but never mind how hard he tried he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. He was gasping now, not laughing. He heard Steve call his name, but it sounded strange; muffled, almost like he was underwater. And it was getting darker again, in spite of the approaching dawn. His knees gave way, and Bucky felt his back and head slam in to the ground with a force that he knew should have hurt him, but it all felt so far away it barely registered.

Was he dying?

He should have known he was never going to get out of this place alive. Maybe he never had. Maybe this was all some fever dream brought on by the illness. That would be more likely. I mean, a fully-healthy Steve? How was that even possible?

This all had to be an hallucination. Maybe one of Lohmer's goons had kicked him too hard in the head this time around. 

_Wait... Who the hell was Lohmer?_

Bucky sank into the darkness.


	4. Fabrication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wants to be too busy to think. Steve's getting in the way.
> 
> Note: Sorry for the (really) massive gap between chapters. I blame Brexit. And also, I made Morita a fully-trained doctor too. Sadly I assume Steve's 'best men' would have to have multiple, vital, complementary talents to get signed off. He's also slightly older than you'd expect for a resident because at this time they generally only accepted one Asian student per year at US medical schools... I also wanted to do this in light of the 'singing, drinking, burping' pub scene in CA:TFA, because I am friends with several doctors and they do all three. :)  
> \--------------  
> Yey! Seems like people are actually reading and enjoying this - still. I'm currently on 99 kudos(es?). If I get to 101, I'll aim to have chapter 5 done by 22nd July. I think there are at least 5 more chapters left in this tale - taking us (and Bucky) up through to the Howlies' attacks on the Hydra bases that led to the scene between Red Skull and Zola in CA:TFA (I make the weapons. I don't fire them!). If we get to that, I'll do a short, Zola perspective story (the hunt for Barnes) as part 3 - deal?

He was being messed with. Why couldn't Becca ever just let him sleep in?

He just needed another 20 minutes tops. How come his sisters could never get that some people actually had to work for a living?

The hands returned. That was it.

"Becca, cut it out!"

He swung out an arm wildly, only for a iron grip and a deep baritone chuckle to bring him to the realisation that he was literally and figuratively a thousand miles from his Brooklyn home.

"I'm sure that while Gabe might be flattered by the comparison, your sister would find it a little bit less to her liking, Jimmy."

"Screw you, Dum Dum."

He grudgingly blinked his way back into the world, to find a mix of concern and amusement on Dugan's face and undisguised worry in the eyes of Gabe Jones. Right, Europe, not Brooklyn, ground not bed, and whatever was beneath his head was far too solid for a pillow, even army-issued ones.

"Steve, you can let go of my wrist now."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

His makeshift pillow shifted suddenly and uncomfortably as Steve moved his leg. The request to 'release his wrist' had initiated a full 'Rogers recoil'. A full body shrug that Steve did to remove himself from emotionally difficult or awkward situations, that was almost the polar opposite of his reaction to the sort of trouble Bucky had made a reputation off the back of getting him out of.

At least somethings hadn't changed.

His wrist was released from Steve's gentle, if a little firm, grip and Bucky attempted to sit up.

"Whoa, that ain't gonna happen!" Gabe's hands landed solidly on Bucky's shoulders. Great, just great.

"I'm fine, Gabe."

He felt Steve's now partly-freed leg shift out from under him. He twisted to shrug off Gabe's hands and get back vertical, only to then find Steve's oversized mitts gently but firmly pulling him back down to the ground where Steve's balled up jacket was now waiting to cushion his head.

Steve appeared above him, blocking most of his view of the eerily-glowing sky. "You told me barely minutes ago that you weren't, so try again, Buck."

He rolled his eyes and half-glared up at Steve, "They actually managed to make you more annoying didn't they?"

Steve was fighting back a smile, "It's possible, I think my Colonel would certainly agree."

It was hard to stay annoyed when Steve did shit like that. But they had a dynamic to maintain, so he took a guess where Steve's thigh would be now, and flung a fist in that general direction.

"Ow!"

Bullseye! But that was hardly a convincing reaction from Steve, and wait... Ow. He flexed his aching fist. Steve's thigh really was rock-solid now.

"Can you two cut it out so we can collectively get back to telling Jimmy he's being an idiot." Only Dum Dum could make the most insubordinate of statements sound that reasonable, it really was a gift.

He tried to sit up again. Steve stopped him before he got so much as his shoulders off the ground. Fine, he was too tired to fight Steve on this when he had better things to be doing. He could put up with being horizontal for a few minutes. He wasn't in command right now, so he had to play this Steve's way. For the moment anyway.

He settled down and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"I suddenly realise that gesture might have lost all comedic value for me." Gabe's tone was so sincere in the delivery, it was hard to tell if it was a joke or not. It often was.

There was an explosion of laughter. Everyone turned to watch as Falsworth bent over double, almost replicating Bucky's own reaction to Steve from before. Monty even slapped his thigh as his cathartic mirth overtook him. Coming from someone as poised as Monty seemed, it was beyond bizarre. Buck tried to sit up again, to get a clear look, but was once again pushed back down by Steve. Now that just wasn't fair, he was going to get a crick in his neck trying to watch Falsworth falling apart from down here.

The Brit was still being shaken by laughing fits, and the group just stood there, slightly at a loss. At least it had taken the attention off of him for a moment. He fixed his eyes on a star in the sky above him. He'd always loved star gazing. He stared at that fixed point of light and let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. He noticed the night was just starting to lighten. He felt a slight squeeze of his shoulder, unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. He still felt like Steve, so maybe all this would be ok. Both of them. The changes.

He heard footsteps approaching and was surprised when he felt Steve react at the same instant. It took a few seconds longer than he expected for him to hear the sound of the rest of the group shifting as they noticed the person headed towards them. And longer than he'd anticipated for the newcomer to arrive. Whatever they'd given him in those syringes must still be messing with his senses. He tried to see the guy past the bulk of Steve and the corner of the tank that was blocking his view of proceedings. They'd moved him behind it, away from the eyes in the yard, and he'd only just noticed. Maybe he was more out of it than he'd thought.

"Hey, is he ok?"

Bucky had no sense of recognition at this new voice, and couldn't tell who the newcomer was referring to. But the fact that all he heard for a second or two was the sound of Dum Dum scratching as least reassured him that the guy must have been someone they recognised. 

"He's British, they've got a weird sense of humour."

"Fair enough." The guy was definitely American but Bucky couldn't place it. West Coast maybe?

"Anything you need, Fresno?"

Mystery solved, thanks Dugan. Monty's fit of hysterics seemed to be subsiding now. And apparently he didn't have the decency to take a nosedive like Bucky had. So much for those fabled good manners.

"Actually a lot of guys are asking after that Sergeant of yours. He ok?"

"He's fine!" No way were they answering for him. He heard the same footsteps start heading in his and Steve's direction. He hastily pushed himself up and Steve didn't try to stop him, instead he placed a supportive hand on the small of Bucky's back. Bucky honestly appreciated it, but shrugged it off just as the guy, a Japanese American, came into view with the rest of the team trailing behind him.

The guy took in the scene of both senior officers on the ground with a slight raised eyebrow, before quickly snapping off a smart salute and a "Sir" aimed just marginally more at Steve than at him.

"Private Jim Morita, Sir. I've been sent for a, ahem, a status update." Morita nodded in Bucky's direction.

Bucky shifted his weight in an attempt to stand, only for Steve to push his own weight down onto Bucky's shoulder, using him as a support to get himself upright. And keeping Bucky grounded. He even transition straight into offering his hand to the Private. Smooth move, Rogers.

"Steve Rogers. Captain Steve Rogers." Steve was going to need to work on sounding a bit more convincing when he said Captain.

Morita shook Steve's proffered hand. "Thanks for the save, Cap. Would have been even better a little earlier, but we were starting to think no-one was coming." He looked over at Bucky again. "Does he need a stretcher? A few guys seem willing to carry his ass back to home base if needed." Seems as though they had another disrespectful, 'speaks his mind' idiot on their hands. Great.

" **He** , is sat right here, Private. And do I look like I need a stretcher?"

Morita gave him an overly long look, "With all due respect, yes." Bucky could see that both Steve and Jones were fighting grins. Monty had joined the group but was still trying to regain his composure from before. "But lots of the guys out there **look** like they could do with being carried out of here, my question is do you actually require it? They're all pretty concerned about your skinny, white, pretty-boy, ass."

There were no many half-insults and backhanded compliments mixed up in Morita's statement Bucky really didn't know how to react. And without Steve propping him up, sitting up was beginning to be an effort. He suddenly realised how much he hurt, everywhere. Like someone had spent those missing three weeks working over every inch of him, inside and out. He lay back down heavily and instantly regretted it - ow, the ground was harder than Steve. "How do I keep finding such huge wise-asses?" He ran his hands over his face with a sigh, before sitting back up and shuffling back so he could lean against the tank for support. "I'm guessing my say won't be the final one on this?"

Morita took a few steps forward and had the decency to squat and look Bucky in the eye. "No, not unless you're healthier than you look and up to fighting off the fan club you've acquired for yourself Sergeant Barnes." The Private gave him a nod of respect, "I saw what you did for that kid. You might not want this but you earned it, and I've got worried POWs to reassure. You been checked out?"

What 'kid'?

Bucky shook off his confusion, maybe Dugan was right and he actually had a concussion... He nodded towards Gabe. Morita pivoted around on one heel to see who he was gesturing to. He met Gabe's eye, "Medic training?" Gabe nodded an affirmative. Morita looked at his uniform. "No red cross?"

"I studied languages at Howard, they switched me to comms when they finally bothered to ask. And our radio guy got hit."

Morita sniggered, and pointed to himself, "Nisei Ranger, they put me on comms because I speak Japanese. Didn't even bother looking at my records, I was two years into my residency, post medical degree." He shrugged. "Asian parents. No field training though."

Gabe nodded in understanding. There seemed to be a moment of bonding happening between the two men, and Bucky was uncomfortable to break it, for a whole host of reasons, but there was no way in hell, Steve, or Dugan or even a group of confusingly involved and emotional infantrymen were carrying him any where, no-one was touching him, or carrying him or strapping him on to anything, period. He honestly could see a fight happening if someone tried. He didn't think he'd win... even against... his mind had automatically defaulted to 'Steve' he looked sideways at his lifelong friend and laughed. It came out half sob. Everyone was suddenly looking at him. He could feel the panic bubbling up under his skin. This wasn't what he wanted. He was free, Steve was here, why was he feeling like this?

"Buck?" Steve was taking a step towards him, Bucky held up a hand signalling him to stop and took a deep breath. He pushed it down. He'd deal with it later, whatever it was. He met Morita's serious gaze. "Skinny?" He even managed a raised eyebrow, his Ma would be proud. Morita pointed towards Dum Dum, Monty and Gabe, "These guys were on half rations for weeks and they look better than you."

He'd always been active, always been athletic. And then he'd needed to protect Steve and his sisters so boxing had become his thing and then at times only manual work had been available, and you needed to be strong to work the New York docks - so he'd never been skinny, not since he was 12.

He looked down at himself, the ill-fitting uniform, and he finally saw it, saw why Steve had been looking at him with an odd sort of panic in his eyes. He looked almost breakable, the way Steve always had to those who didn't know him. He was leaner than he'd ever remembered being. And yes, he hurt, but he didn't feel weak, just sore and stiff, and tired, and off balance. He didn't have time to worry about how strange that was.

"Weirdly, I hear pneumonia isn't great for you as a whole." That had to explain it, right?

"So, they gave you top-notch medical treatment but no food? Interesting approach." 

Christ, this guy was somewhere slap bang between Steve and Dum Dum in the sarcasm/concern scale, Bucky didn't know if that was worse or better than dealing with those two instead. "Wish I could tell you what they were thinking, but you know they were Nazis, so care isn't really their thing." 

Morita ignored him and turned to the others instead, "Terrible patient, huh?"

There was an instant deluge of 'God awfuls', 'terribles' and 'the worsts' from Jones, Falsworth(?) and Dugan - thanks guys!

Steve smiled sadly before adding his reply, "He learned a lot from my mom, she was a nurse, who also hated being sick or being fussed over, right to the end."

Everyone took a moment to absorb what their new Captain had admitted. Bucky was momentarily shocked that Steve would share something so personal with relative strangers, until he realised he was the target for that particular bombshell and suddenly felt indignant. But, now at least, he knew what was coming... 3,2,1...

"Buck, it can't hurt to let him check you out, you did agree..."

Manipulative asshole. Well, no. Not really. He just understood how Bucky worked far too well. If Steve ever decided to use his powers for evil, he'd be a serious threat to the world. Bucky knew him better than anyone, yet he still found himself doing what Steve wanted more often than his good 'Barnes' common sense knew he should. And the fact that Steve was never less than completely earnest and honest didn't make it any better when you realised that you'd been sucked in. Yet again.

He'd agreed to a nurse or a doctor. Maybe this compromise, who was a fellow soldier, and who, for some reason, seemed to respect him as more than a common GI, would actually be the best option. But he'd at least have to play hard to get, or he could easily see them trying to sideline him, despite all the pretty promises.

Steve was now looking at him like he was going to fall down dead at any moment, Jees. He wasn't even standing up. Well that was one thing he could do now Steve wasn't literally pinning him down. He stumbled up, less elegantly than he would have liked to be honest, and pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the tank before anyone could start to admonish him for standing. Steve now looked more amused than anything, and hell, Bucky wasn't ever going to complain about that. Might as well try and put on a show then.

He pulled his legs up and crossed them under him. If that was the only way to get out of this humiliating situation with any sort of dignity... He threw his arms open wide. "Fine, have at it, Morita. Fair warning, I'm ticklish." Rogers wasn't the only one who could be a dramatic little shit.

Morita rolled his eyes. Monty muttered "Americans" under his breath, Gabe sighed, Steve shot him a look that said "Really!" and Dum Dum's hat came flying towards his head, which he managed to duck, just.

Dum Dum has going to be in a foul mood later if he'd accidentally damaged that stupid bowler of his.

Morita ignored him. "Jones?" The almost doctor/radio operator indicated that Gabe should follow him as he moved away from the group for some privacy. Jones followed his lead, and they walked far enough away that the group wouldn't be able to overhear a hushed conversation. Or shouldn't have been able to. 

They'd forgotten about Steve's super hearing already. Too much going on. And he hadn't expected Steve not to speak up. Maybe he had been about to. Clearly it was too late now.

Steve's body language had entirely changed. His head turned sharply in Bucky's direction. "Puncture marks?!"

Quicker than Bucky could have believed possible, Steve was in front of him and reaching for his arm.

He twisted out of reach with such violence that he barely managed to maintain his balance on the tank. "Steve, don't."

Gabe and Morita jogged up behind Steve. Gabe looked apologetic, Steve looked worried and Morita looked confused.

Morita was confused. "What just happened?"

Bucky was too busy having a staring competition stand-off with his best friend to answer, so Gabe stepped in pointing a finger at Steve, "Super hearing". He looked at Bucky, "Sorry, still seems too incredible to believe".

He wasn't going to take his eyes off Steve, he wasn't going to lose this one. "Not a problem, Private." He heard Morita mutter, "Super hearing - sure, why not". Steve hadn't said a word. But then he turned his hand palm up, arm slightly outstretch and waited.

Bucky crossed his arms in front of him, tightly.

Steve let out a huff of frustration. That was usually Bucky's part of proceedings. Not always, but usually. Steve's hand inched forwards, "Buck, please?".

His arms crossed even more tightly. At least the other two were staying out of it - so far anyway. "Steve, I'm fine. Why won't anyone believe me?"

Morita responded before Steve had the chance. "Err, maybe because we can actually see you, Sergeant."

That wasn't what he meant. And he knew Steve suddenly got it when he finally looked away and the hand dropped.

Morita didn't seem as willing to let it drop now though. "Look, your friend here tells me you've got some nasty looking needle marks and incisions along your left forearm. We don't know if they've been properly treated and it's not exactly going to be the most sanitary of conditions going forwards. We've found some medical supplies in one of the residential buildings around the back, so let's just get them cleaned up and wrapped, and remove any risk of infection shall we?"

For a wise-ass, Morita actually had a pretty good bedside manner. And even with Steve having backed-off, he'd made it almost impossible for Bucky to refuse without seeming like a petulant child. He hung his head back, looked up at the cloudless sky, took a deep breath and nodded his assent. Morita nodded back in confirmation and jogged off to somewhere Bucky couldn't see. No-one spoke.

Gabe backed up a step or two and Steve kept trying to catch his eye. He was happy staring into the middle distance, thanks very much.

A few longs seconds later they heard the jogging footsteps of Morita's return. Without hesitation he walked into the small space between Bucky and Steve, forcing the substantially bigger man to find a new location to stand. Steve didn't move far, shifting just a few feet to the side, so he could watch as Morita placed the medical kit on the tank beside Bucky, opened it up and pulled out the gauze and disinfecting alcohol from various compartments. Morita turned to the 'audience' behind him, "That French guy of yours seems to have found some unexploded munitions store. My French is terrible, but he was pretty excited about it. Might be worth checking out?"

This was clearly aimed at Steve. Bucky should have told Morita not to bother, nothing was going to shift Steve until this was over. There was an awkward pause before Dum Dum said "Sure, I'll do that right now" and quickly left. Dum Dum hated awkward pauses.

Morita gave Bucky an apologetic shrug, before indicating Bucky should pull up his sleeve.

Bucky appreciated his not trying to do it himself.

He reached down and quickly pushed up the left arm of his threadbare army shirt. At least it would all be over with soon.

Morita had picked up the bottle of alcohol and was unscrewing the top, when he stopped with a look of puzzlement on his face. "Jones, didn't you say these were recent?"

Gabe stepped in closer, "Yes. Why?"

Mortita opened the bottle, doused a piece of gauze and wiped down Bucky's arm, who tried not to flinch despite the cold sensation and Morita's loose grip. The gauze came away dirty and with a few streaks of dried blood. Bucky felt his throat go dry and looked away.

Morita picked up a fresh piece and continued with his cleaning. "Because these are almost totally healed."

That was enough to make Bucky take a look, and yes not only were the marks less angry, there seemed to be fewer of them visible. Or maybe he'd been seeing things before? But then Gabe came forward, and from the look on his face, he knew he hadn't been. "I was scratching at them before, probably made it look worse than it is." 

Neither of the trained medics in front of him looked convinced, but Jones moved away and Morita wrapped a bandage around what was there and pinned it off. "Try to avoid scratching it again, huh?"

Bucky nodded his agreement and carefully pulled the sleeve back into position. Maybe he could forget about this now? Except...

"What do you think caused them?" ...he should have known Steve wouldn't let him.

Morita pulled out a watch from a pocket, held up two fingers and signalled towards Bucky's neck. Bucky's sharp nod had him placing his fingers on the pulse point and watching as a minute was ticked off on the clockface. He then rested the back of his hand of Bucky's forehead for a few seconds.

Bucky could see the first signs of Steve's growing impatience.

Morita finally turned around. "Hypodermic needles or various sizes, Sir." He then turned back to Bucky. "When did you last eat?"

Bucky suddenly had the weird absolute certainty that there had been a sit down meal in those missing three weeks. But when, he couldn't say. He shrugged, "No clue."

Morita turned to Steve again. "I'd say sedatives and an IV were definites, no way of knowing what, if anything, else, without a blood test." He focused back on Bucky, your temperature seems elevated but your pulse seems normal. Any stabbing pains?"

Bucky shook his head no.

"Any difficulty breathing?"

Again Bucky answered "No".

"Any dizziness?"

"Then I suggest plenty of water, sipped, and a small amount of plain food at regular intervals until we know your system can handle it - starting now, before you do anything."

Steve didn't look happy, but he did leave to apparently go fetch the required provisions.

Morita stared into Bucky's eyes, "Your pupils look a little dilated. Any idea what they mighta given you. Or when?"

Bucky shook his head no. Morita gave him an assessing look, "Now, that's the part that actually worries me." He turned away as Steve returned with a flask and some ration packs. Morita signalled that Steve should hand the flask to Bucky who obligingly opened it and started taking sips as he'd been directed. He was not a 'god awful patient'.

Morita, had taken the odd looking ration packs from Steve and was dismantling them, pulling out the individual components and sorting them into two piles on the ground as Steve, Gabe and Falsworth watched. He picked out a small tin and went back over to Bucky, holding it out. "Let's start with this? Any nut allergies?"

Bucky took what it turned out, remarkably, was a tub of peanut butter from Morita. "That's all I get for my first meal as a free man? Gee thanks."

Morita's 'don't give me your shit' face was uncannily like his mother's.

"We'll see how you are in 10 minutes, and if you're a good boy, Sir, we may even let you have the crackers." He indicated that Bucky should take another sip from the flask.

He might actually be channelling Winifred Barnes. Jesus.

Morita returned to the other, more sizeable pile, picked up a few items and threw them at the guys. "Don't ask me what's in them, my German's decent but I know fuck all about the food. And these are not Iron Rations. Must be Hydra's own version."

No kidding. Peanut butter was not standard by any means. He hadn't realised how much he missed it until he rinsed of his fingers with water from the canister and scooped a gooey lump into his mouth.

It was actually half decent.

Morita pulled a face and threw him a pack of crackers. "What are we? Savages? Use the crackers, just don't eat them until you know you can keep them down, we don't have enough rations to waste food. Bucky ripped open the packet and began using one of the hard crackers inside as a scoop.

Monty and Gabe, examined their assigned rations, looked at each other, nodded and switched, tossing the cans across the space between them with expert timing.

Steve turned to Morita. "How much food do we have to work with?"

"About enough for two days - if we didn't have a hard march and half-starved men. It's gonna be tight."

Steve looked concerned. Bucky was straight up worried. These were his men. Well, some of them were anyway. He stowed the crackers in a pocket, wiped off his hands and pushed himself off the tank. "Any chance we missed something?"

He took a few steps forwards, only to find Morita's hand planted firmly on his sternum. He looked down at Morita. His extra inches of height and rank didn't seem to mean much to the Ranger, that was clear.

"Steve?" He looked towards his friend, and he supposed, commanding officer, "We had a deal. He's even a doctor". He wasn't 100% sure what residency meant but the guy seemed more than competent.

"Look, Bucky..."

Morita didn't even give him time to finish. "Sorry, Cap, but as far as I'm concerned, this is my call." The hand hadn't moved, but Bucky wasn't going to back off, he needed to be doing something productive to get him, his friend and the hundreds of other survivors, the hell out of this burning hell, as soon as possible. It was clear that wasn't going to happen without convincing Morita first.

"Look I've done what you asked, what these guys wanted, I ate, I drank, I can stand on my own two feet. We're in a war here in case everyone's forgotten." He was relatively proud of himself for staying calm and rational. He turned to Steve. "You promised me two hours."

Steve looked apologetically, non-apologetic as he ignored Bucky and instead asked Morita, "What's your recommendation, Doctor?"

Morita's hand still hadn't moved. Bucky glared down at it. He didn't think glaring directly at Morita at this point was the best way to go.

Morita looked at him, directly in the eyes, and then shifted his gaze to Steve. "Twenty minutes. Then a 20 minute break with more fluids and food if he can take it. And no more than an hour of activity at a time until we reach base. And someone monitors him at all times. I can't rule out head trauma or internal bleeding without equipment, so he needs 24 hour observation."

No. That. That wasn't okay. Steve had already agreed...

Steve looked at him long and hard. "Ok, we'll go with the 20 minutes to start. Private Jones, will you go with him?"

Gabe moved over to Bucky's side, "Of course." He tried to take Bucky's weight and that wasn't happening. Bucky shrugged off his efforts, until he realised Steve and Morita weren't going to give an inch until he accepted help in some form or another. He sighed and let Gabe lend him a shoulder, he felt stupid, but if he needed to see this as an exercise in making Steve comfortable, in order to get done what needed to be done, he'd play along, for now. 

He fixed his eyes on Steve, before shifting them to Morita and Jones. "Fine 20 minutes at a time. But we do 2 hours and if I'm still standing on my own two feet, all this madness stops?" He gestured to encompass the concerned faces looking at him.

Steve nodded as if conceding. Bucky knew better.

"We go with the 24 hours observation, and the 4 hour switch out still happens." What the hell, Steve!

But 'Captain America' wasn't done. Steve looked at Morita, "And you get 6 hour minimum down time, and a check up with Morita in the next 24."

Morita nodded his approval.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, only to turn and find Steve virtually breathing his air. Then, ommpff! He was trapped in Steve's embrace in a way that he couldn't remember happening since the night Mrs Rogers funeral, and had never quite happened quite like this, when there was so much more 'Steve' to deal with now.

He couldn't help but return the hug regardless of how annoyed he was.

"They told me you were dead, Buck."

Falsworth piped up, "We were pretty certain you were dead too, as a side note." Helpful, thanks Monty. 

Damn it, he had been holding it together so far, he was going to continue to do so. "I'm here, Steve. I'm fine."

"Colonel Philips had written a letter to your Mom and sisters..." Oh, hell they'd be worse than Steve to deal with, even via letter. Maybe they hadn't sent it yet ? Please, god, let them not have sent it yet! He needed to get back and stop that, now. Whatever it took.

"Fine, you win." He withdrew from the oversized Rogers embrace. Gabe stepped into be his human crutch once, again. Bucky stepped back."No. Okay to everything else, and Gabe, thank you, but the men are't seeing me like that." He looked around assessing the sightlines. "You kept me out of view of the men after I - collapsed - that was for a good reason. It still holds."

Steve looked at Falsworth, Jones and Morita in turn, and each confirmed their assent with a nod of the head or a sloppy salute in Monty's case.

Bucky let go of a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. Ok, 20 minutes, he could work with that.

He took a deep breath and strode out from behind the tank with purpose. He locked on to the first familiar face he saw. "Thompson, you're out of your unit. Report. What's the current status of Charlie Company?"

Thompson, a fairly experienced grunt, with about the same field hours as Bucky looked so happy to see him, Bucky almost missed a step. But they didn't have the time for that. And Taylor got it, it seemed. He snapped of a smart salute "Sergeant Barnes, Sir, we have 5 invalid, 20 walking wounded, and 2 or 3 (he looked at Bucky), 2 who need some additional care en route."

"Good, identify 20 of the strongest to carry stretchers, for those we can't fit on transport. And not just from the 107th, anyone who looks fit enough to put in a few good hours carrying." He somehow knew he wouldn't be on that list. He didn't care. He looked at Gabe, just behind him, and once again felt part of a team. Hydra and the last three weeks be damned. They'd won and, whatever had happened to him, he was going to make Hydra pay. What he currently remembered now was more than enough incentive. He looked at the hundreds of US infantrymen, RAF pilots and the one or two French resistance fighters in front of him, scattered in groups across the vast loading yard. This was something he was good at, as much as he didn't want to be. He'd back Steve, he'd get these men home and he'd make Hydra regret this. Every part of this.

He put 'Sergeant Barnes' back to work. Everything else could wait.


End file.
